londoncallingrpg

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OTA

After John Hart, after Gray, Jack couldn't be in Cardiff. He was Torchwood now, not just what he did but who he was, and he had a small crisis and had to get away. Although he'd broken with London's Torchwood after the incidents at Canary Wharf (which it seemed the population had either forgotten or written off) Jack found himself in England's jewel. He was ready to make a new start. And, he reckoned, the Doctor would probably visit London before Cardiff if truth be told.

He'd settled into the subterranean Hub that Alice and Emily had worked in. It had been long forgotten in favor of the building of steel and glass that had been built atop it. Bloody Torchwood...they were supposed to be secret. He'd made his contacts and had put himself to work. But even Jack needed to eat.

He had all of the city to choose from and rather than just go to a pub Jack stood on the sidewalk looking at his mobile reading Yelp reviews. There was a place just down the block and around the corner. Yelp was good and all but he kind of wanted a real opinion so he looked up from his screen and he smiled at the first person whose eye he caught.

"Excuse me...do you know if this place is any good?" he asked, showing the screen. His American accent immediately marked him as a tourist, even though he wasn't.

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"That's everywhere, anymore," Jack said sadly. "An epidemic in America, but it's not contained there. Ah, but what can you do? People want to feel good, especially when their lot in life is being stuck in the cornlands of America..."

"Clearly, you've never run afoul of feral meth junkies." Clint said it in such a deadpan that it was hard to say if he was sarcastic or serious.

"I did the smart thing. I got out and now look at me."

And now look at me... Jack did. He gave Clint a very obvious once over, head to toe and back.

"Kinda likin' what I see," he grinned.

Clint snorted and shook his head, playing up his broad Midwestern tone. "Sir you have not even bought me a drink yet. That is very forward!"

Jack laughed a little at that.

"Well, then...Can I buy you a drink?"

"Can't promise I'll be going weak at the knees, but sure," Clint said, all easy calm. "And I'll get the second round."

"That sounds good," Jack replied. "Why don't you lead the way. Wherever you like to drink...hopefully someplace with a little to eat..."

For now, that was the pub where they'd been standing. Clint wasn't too fussy and right now, he was more interested in getting a read off this guy than anything else. "They have good fries here. Excuse me. Chips."

"Oh, don't be getting that one wrong. They'll hang you from a yardarm or something equally British," Jack laughed.

"Asked for ketchup once. Apparently it's an arrestable offense," Clint said. He shook his head before going up to the bar, going for a pint and a steak and kidney pie. No ketchup.

"Ketchup...you're a dare devil," Jack laughed, then ordered fish and chips and a pitcher of water.

"So, Clint, in all seriousness...what brings you to London?" he asked.

"Work," Clint said, tone offhand as if to suggest his job was so boring as not to be worth a conversation. Even as he said it, he was formulating his imaginary job for tonight. He'd already made it clear he wasn't the silver spoon, old money business type, which blew away a few options. Antiquities always risked curiosity and there wasn't a circus in town he could piggyback.

"I'm a personal assistant. Where my boss goes, I go," he decided. "I got the night off for making an especially good Starbucks run." With Natasha in town, it was almost true.

"Here's to a night off. I don't really start my job until tomorrow so I've got the night for a good meal and some company," he said flirtatiously.

Clint raised an eyebrow, neither turning him down nor immediately saying yes. "So you got one last free night, huh?"

"Something like that. Maybe not last, but I can pretty much bank on my nights being busy," he shrugged.

He laughed and nodded, finding a booth near the kitchen doors where he could watch for the food and--Clint being Clint--keep an eye on both exits and entrances.

"Weird hours?"

"The weirdest hours. Never off duty, really," Jack said. He angled himself subtly so he could scan the room but the way he sat made it seem like Clint had one hundred percent of his attention.

"What do you like?" he asked.

Clint laughed in sympathy, letting the gesture disguise his observation. Jack took in the whole room like he was either casing the joint or plotting several exit strategies. Whatever he was, Clint observed, he was good.

Hope he's on our side. I don't think I'm up for getting pistol-whipped tonight. I think Tash wouldn't come pick me up.

"Tonight? A good cold beer and a steak and kidney pie."

"I think I'll stick with just a steak. And chips," Jack decided. When the waitress came he ordered for them both, beer for Clint and water for himself- a pitcher. She smiled at them both and hurried off.

"So," he purred, returning his attention to Clint. "Tell me more about yourself."

"Not much to know," Clint demurred. Sometimes he said it enough and honestly came close to believing it himself. "Just a gofer on his night off. I am, however, damn good at darts. That's my only talent."

"I doubt it's your only talent," Jack replied, giving Clint a long, measured look. Then the heat in his eyes evaporated and there was only amusement.

"Prove it. I've got ten quid says I'll beat you."

"Ten quid, huh?" Clint was never much of a gambling man. That was a vice better left to people who could afford it but when it was a sure thing...

"Sure you want to do that? Last time someone tried to take a bet with me on darts, I ended up banned from another pub."

"It's just a friendly game. Ten quid just makes it interesting," Jack said...getting the distinct feeling he was going to get taken. That was okay, though. It was just a little fun.

"Just remember you said that if you get the urge to beat my face in." Clint went and got the darts from the board, offering Jack the first throw.

Jack had had years of practice- it really wasn't fair. He lined up his shot and put it in the center.

And then gave Clint a sweet smile.

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raisedbycarnies - 2015-04-27 05:10 (UTC) - Expand

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